


Just Can't Let Go

by narcissistickannibal



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Soulmates, everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24123286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissistickannibal/pseuds/narcissistickannibal
Summary: "Peter's dead. I watched him die. It's been over three years but-.""The loss of one's soulmate, it's common for anguish and grief to take over.""No. You don't understand.""What don't I?""I see him everywhere and it's not going away."
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 23
Kudos: 131





	1. "Peter Hale is dead."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is un-betaed and written to the best of my ability.

_“No, I’m not just letting you leave her here.”_

_“You don’t have a choice, Stiles. You’re coming with me.”_

_Stiles trembled looking from the young woman he was willing to die for to the psychotic monster that doesn’t care about anything but himself. He feels it, he feels like he’s going to have his throat torn out or worse and God, that’s not not how he wants his dad to find him. But, he can’t just leave Lydia here to bleed out all over this field!_

_“Just kill me! Look, I don’t care anymore!” Stiles shouts, taking in a breath when Peter tosses the blood stained tissue aside and grows closer. This is it, this is how he’s going to die._

_Peter’s fingers firmly hook underneath his chin, the touch of his sharp claws are what send the sudden unknown wave of emotion down his spine but no, that’s not it. His entire body runs cold, colors suddenly flood his vision and everything is so different. No, no way, this isn’t real! No! This is some werewolf bullshit, Peter can force it!_

_ Stiles looks up into his eyes, shaking as he’s forced to stand back up. Peter watches him with an empty expression, almost as though the sudden burst of color doesn’t bother him at all. Maybe he’s right, this is just a werewolf f-.  _

_“Call your friend. Tell Jackson where she is, that’s all you get.” Peter orders, releasing him from his touch and immediately Stiles believes the colors will fade, they don’t._

* * *

_ “She’ll be incredibly powerfu-.”  _

_“Can you not see them?” Stiles interrupts him, turning to glance at him before returning his eyes to the road._

_“See what?” Peter asked, uninterested._

_Stiles is in disbelief, wondering if maybe it is just a werewolf thing and that means Peter isn’t his soul mate. Except Derek put his hands on him way too many times, there’s no way. He frustratingly reached up to rub at the top of his head, hoping all of this was sort of mental disorder, but these colors aren't going away._

_“You’re wondering whether I see in color now, aren’t you?”_

_Stiles abruptly breaks, and if not for his seatbelt he’d of bashed his skull once again into the steering wheel for the second time this week._

_Peter makes a noise of annoyance, looking at him with disapproval. “That is not how one breaks, are you sure you know how to even drive?”_

_ “Th-That’s what you want to talk about?! You just, are you, when they just appeared after we touched you didn’t even flinch! Why am I the only one freaking out here that my soulm-!” Stiles stops yelling when Peter’s hand abruptly wraps around his throat, forcing him to look into the man’s eyes, that icy cold stare that bleeds to red.  _

_“Stiles, drive.”_

_“O-Or what? Huh, you’ll rip my throat out with your teeth?” Stiles licks his lips nervously, wondering if he already signed his execution, but Peter, he just laughs at him and releases him from his grasp._

_“Drive.” Peter repeats, before he tugs on the seatbelt and goes back to starring outside the window._

_Stiles can’t, he can’t understand any of this and reluctantly puts his Jeep into drive again._

* * *

_“What happens after you find Derek?” Stiles asked, waiting impatiently for the laptop to load. He has to get away from Peter, find Lydia to see if she’s okay and then go find Scott._

_“Don’t think, Stiles. Type.” Peter responded, not interested in anything else._

_“You’re going to kill people, aren’t you?” He glanced at Peter for any sort of reaction, irritated that he finds none._

_“Only the responsible ones.” Peter finally moved ever so slightly, looking into his eyes and making Stiles swallow the lump in his throat. He leaned in impossibly closer to the teenager, breath ghosting over his ear. “Do you think I killed my niece on purpose? One of the only remaining family members I have left? Maybe I did, but I was the one left all alone, left without even a goodbye.”_

_Stiles remembered reading through the police reports, one of the few survivors of that fire left here in Beacon Hills while the son and daughter left to escape. Peter was almost burned alive, suffering multiple burns all over his body, and then thought to have become a vegetable._

_“Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing, cell by cell..” he trailed off, watching Stiles shut his eyes who could only imagine that pain in his head._

_“I-,” Stiles shut up as the computer dinged, his eyes immediately look for the exact location and he froze. “Wait, he’s there? They’re keeping him at the old house?”_

_Peter shook his head, shutting the laptop closed. “Not in it, underneath.”_

_Stiles is left without words as he watched Peter grab the laptop, tucking it into the passenger seat and closing the door. “Give me your keys.”_

_Stiles blinked, not even able to find any words as the alpha wolf swiped away his keys and crushed them in his grasp. Peter bluntly gives them back to him, leaving him standing there with his keys folded in half. “Wait, so you’re not gonna kill me?”_

_Peter paused from climbing into the car, turning around to look at Stiles with an almost hurt face as he moved in closer._

_Stiles can’t understand the seriousness written over his face, he actually looked at him as though he’s in pain after everything they’ve been through tonight._

_“I like you, Stiles. Don’t you understand yet? I’m not the bad guy here.”_

_“You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs, and you’re not the bad guy here?!” Stiles shouted a little too loudly, growing increasingly irritated by Peter’s attitude through this all. Silence appeared to follow them after his outburst, and it only ticks him off even more. “What?!”_

_Peter chuckled under his breath, a hint of a smile. “I’m going to give you something.”_

_Stiles is ready to tell him he doesn’t want a thing from him, but Peter beats him to it._

_“Do you want the bite?”_

_It’s almost like everything goes quiet around them, the silent not welcome or unwelcome._

_“If it doesn’t kill you, and it could.. you’d become like us.”_

_“Like you.” Stiles licked over his dry lips, wondering how or why he’s even thinking about agreeing to this stupid idea._

_“That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack, it could’ve easily been you.” Peter assured as he moved in closer, standing inches away from Stiles. “We’d be equals, maybe more?”_

_Stiles flinched as Peter’s surprisingly warm hand wrapped around his wrist in a gentle grasp, a grasp he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t pull away from. This man is a killer, somebody whose killed those that burned his family alive, but still. It’s not the way to go, not the way anybody should go._

_“Yes or no?” Peter softly asked, holding his hand up to his mouth as he stares into those gentle brown eyes looking back in his own. He smiles, opening his mouth and ready to sink his fangs in.. when Stiles abruptly pulled back._

_He fumes at Peter, shakily breathing and trying hard not to panic. “I don’t wanna be like you.”_

_Peter stands back up straight, not an ounce of emotion in his eyes as he smiles. “You know what I heard just then? Your heart beating slightly faster over the words, ‘_ ** _I_** **_don’t_** **_want_** _’.” He doesn’t let Stiles even respond this time. “You may believe that you’re telling me the truth, but you are lying to yourself. Goodbye Stiles.”_

_Stiles quickly tried to get his two cents in, but by then Peter is climbing into his car and driving off. He stands there with an empty feeling sinking in his stomach, his hand coming up to gently rest on his wrist. Why does that hurt over everything else?_

* * *

_“Did you see anything? Do you have any idea what could have attacked her?”_

_Stiles looked away from Lydia lying there unconscious in the hospital bed, turning to look back at his dad with defeat written all over his face. Yes, I do. Peter Hale, Derek’s psychotic uncle, and the man that’s the other half of me did it._

_“No. No, I have no idea.” He sighed, turning his gaze immediately back over towards Lydia. He’s not protecting her, he’s protecting the man who doesn’t feel a single thing for him._

  
  


_“Wait, when did you decide it was definitely arson?” Stiles hurriedly tried to keep up with his father, listening intently as he tells him about the young woman who fits Kate Argent all too well. In the back of his head something stirs, a sense of pointless hope that maybe if she’s arrested Peter will back off._

_If Peter backs off maybe he’ll get better, Peter will get better and maybe he’ll really look at him this time._

* * *

_“You don’t have a car.”_

_ “I’m aware of that. Thank you.” Stiles gripes back at him, wishing he’d leave him alone so he could find a way to get to Scott faster. Wherever Scott was Derek was, they had to have Peter somewhere following behind. Peter needed- he turned around, shoving Jackson’s hand away as he tried grabbing on his arm.  _

_“Just because you feel guilty all of a sudden doesn’t make it alright, half of this is still your fault.”_

_Jackson’s entire face filled with guilt, but he remained where he was not giving up. “Look I have a car, you don’t. Do you want my help or not?”_

_Stiles is silently fuming, but in the end he snatches the keys out of Jackson’s hand and gives in. “I’ll drive.”_

_Neither of them even got a couple of steps closer before Chris Argent appeared in front of them, that stupid expression on his face._

* * *

_Stiles is getting tired of being shoved into inanimate objects, all because people don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves._

_“Let me ask you a question, Stiles? Have you ever seen a rabid dog?”_

_“No, if you put me down I could put it on my to do list.” He looks down into Chris Argent’s eyes, shaking slightly in frustration listening to him try to act like a big voice of reason. He listens to every single word the hunter spills, but part of him doesn’t think he could even believe a word out of his mouth._

_“No, and it sounds like you ne-”_

_Stiles flinched, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment._

_“Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon?! Did you have to lock him up?”_

_Stiles looked directly in the hunter’s eyes and a wave of anger filled him up all over. “Yeah, I did. I had to handcuff him to a radiator. Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the house down around him?!”_

_Chris actually has the nerve to smile at him, laugh almost, acting like he has no idea that his sister is the reason for all of this._

_“I hate to dispel a popular rumor Stiles, but we never did that.”_

_“Yeah, Derek said you all have a code. Well, what if someone breaks it?”_

* * *

_ When they finally arrive at the remains of the Hale house it’s already an all out fight. Stiles sees what looks like a monster, it’s huge, and- “Peter.” He shakily climbed out of the car, hand tightly gripping the glass beaker before hurling it towards the enraged wolf.  _

_Peter catches it and Stiles inside is a little relieved, but then he listens to Scott yelling for Allison and suddenly Peter’s engulfed in flames once again. He’s frozen as a sinking feeling starts in the pit of his stomach, watching Jackson throw the second beaker that brings on an even larger fire. It's sickening inside to watch the flames burn wildly over him, for a second time Peter's reliving that night it feels._

_Underneath the deformed werewolf Peter slowly reappears, badly burned, and it takes everything in him not to run over. For a second it feels as though everything will be okay, but he forgets about Derek, power-hungry, revenge filled Derek._

_Scott’s pleas for him not to do this are the only thing audible, but they fall on deaf ears as Derek’s claws come down and slice open Peter’s throat._

_Stiles freezes up when all the colors, the blood, the trees, everything suddenly washes all away. He drops down to the forest floor, looking over his hands and shaking when tears start to build up. Why is he crying for someone who felt nothing for him, someone who would have killed him if it benefited him._

_“Stiles?”_

_He glanced up, staring at the charred remains of his other half standing there staring down at him, he transformed into the man unblemished by the fire, and then in seconds he’s the disfigured werewolf coming straight for him._

* * *

Stiles shot up from underneath the covers, bathed in layers of sweat and trying so hard to catch his breath. His eyes fall below and he lifted up the sweaty shirt covering his abdomen, trying to find the claw marks that felt so real before he woke up but they’re gone, nothing is there. He glances around his bedroom to find nothing, there’s nobody there. Peter’s not here. 

“I-It was a dream, it was a dream,” he softly repeated to himself before dropping in exhaustion back down to the bed.

“Peter Hale is dead, and he’s not coming back.”

Sprawled out over his bed Stiles stared in confusion to the trees outside his window. Trees that he could have sworn had been a dark brown with green leaves when he opened his eyes just seconds ago. It wasn’t the first time this happened, seeing just a spec of color every morning before everything lost their hues and faded to black and white. It all started after they barely defeated the Nogitsune, every morning he would wake up to just a flash of color and then nothing. He was actually starting to believe he was still fucked up in the head, but who wouldn’t be after becoming possessed by a demonic fox. 

Seeing any sort of color would never be possible again, not unless scientists one day figured out a way past this. Either that, or Peter magically appeared again one day, charred and burned, ready to come seek vengeance against everyone. Everyone probably even included himself for playing a part in trying to kill him. Derek had technically killed him, but had they not brought along those molotov cocktails and set him on fire maybe things would have gone a different way. Those memories of that day just about plagued him every single night, always the same, always so real. Each time the nightmare ended with Peter ready to tear him apart, or the man staring down into his eyes with a look that made him forget all the bad things Peter had done.

He’d eventually had to blab about what happened that day to Scott, unwillingly to Derek who overheard. Of course Sourwolf didn’t believe any of it at first, told him to stop lying but had to realize the cold truth. There weren’t any words of comfort or sympathy to pass on. In the eyes of everyone who crossed paths with the man it was for the best, Peter Hale gone was better for everyone and even more so himself. Derek told him over and over how Peter had never actually been a good person, and Stiles actually laughed because he didn’t care. He missed a man he didn’t even get to know, someone who’d tried to kill them all and he didn’t care. 

* * *

_ “I-I just wish I could have known him before the fire, before he got driven insane.” Stiles stood outside the remains of the Hale House, directly over the spot where he'd watched Peter burn. He sunk a little inside feeling Derek’s judging eyes on him slowly appear out of the darkness. This has been the third night he’s come out here. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to even do, feel closer to Peter if possible? It’s the worst spot in the world, this is the spot where he helped them kill his-.  _

_“Peter isn’t coming back and you should just forget about him, Stiles.” Derek repeated for what Stiles felt was the hundredth time._

_ “I know that, but maybe I could have-.”  _

_ “You couldn’t have done anything.” Derek's temper finally snaps, dramatically flying off of the porch to stand in front of him. “He is, was, a manipulative liar, anything he said or did was only for his own personal gain and that’s it. Peter said he didn’t know what he was doing when he killed Laura and he lied.” He argued, getting right up in Stiles’ face. “I did you a favor when I cut his throat, what you need to do is thank me instead of moaning about your lost love. It's pathetic-.”  _

_“Shut up! You don’t know that!” Stiles fought back with tears welling in his eyes that he tried so hard to force back down. It’s the only thing that seems to stop Derek’s hands from shoving him back into the charred remains of a wall. “Do you think that I want to miss someone who hurt my friends?! He was a cold-blooded killer, and I think had he survived I would honestly have said screw everyone else.” He sobbed._

_ “Stiles you didn’t even know hi-.”  _

_“I don’t care! No! Peter and I, I could have done something! We could have, we could-”_

_“Stiles!”_

_ "You can't change my mind. He offered me the bite and I should have taken it! I could be like him and maybe-"  _

_"Stiles!? Come on, snap out of it!"_

* * *

Stiles shot up out of the bed, staring ahead towards his dad with a shaky gasp for air as he struggled to catch his breath. He ignored the stinging in his eyes, looking around the room with confusion. He's no longer back there in the past with Derek, he's back in his room. In his room it had still been dark, but now the sun is shining in through the windows. "It felt so real." 

"Stiles? What felt so real?" 

Stiles ignored his dad, continuing to look over his bedroom walls until they landed on the closet door. In front of the door stood Peter, but how? He tightened his hands into fists, shaking and briefly turning his eyes away from the closet door at the feeling of the mattress sinking, glancing over into his dad's concerned eyes. Glancing back to the closet door, Peter was long gone because of course, he was dead. “Sorry, what'd you say Dad?” 

“You were laying there mumbling with your eyes open, I called out about three times but,” the Sheriff trailed off, not looking to have a clue what he was dealing with, “are you alright?”

Stiles released a heavy sigh, nodding his head and pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sorry I just, I was just.” He can’t seem to find the words to tell him. How does he even tell him he thinks he's going insane and having a breakdown over his dead soulmate?.

His dad knew all about what happened, but it’s not because he voluntarily filled him in on everything. It was around the time the Alpha Pack came to town, the Darach that turned out was Jennifer Blake, things had gotten so messed up and his dad knew he was lying to him every time he opened his mouth. Only when there were lives on the line did Stiles spill the truth, of course his dad thought he was lying, but seeing was believing, and his dad barely escaped being taken by Jennifer. After that, that’s when he told him everything, including Peter.

  
“Peter, you said his name.” His dad told him, getting up from the bed and moving to sit down in the desk chair across from him with his hands in his lap. “I’d never push you to tell me, but you can’t just go on like this kiddo.”

  
Stiles shook his head, immediately trying to retreat back into his bubble where he covered up his feelings and threw away the key. “No, Dad. It wasn’t even, I was just thinking about him. It's nothing.”

  
  
“What about him were you thinking of?”

  
  
“Dad, look, can we just not talk about this? Please. Look, it's almost eight, I’m gonna be late for the first period and Mr. Finstock is going to kill me.” He stressed, hurriedly climbing out of bed and going about to the bathroom to wash his red rimmed eyes.

  
  
His dad shook his head, watching him desperately trying to avoid talking about any of this. “Stiles I’m not trying to force you to tell me anything, I just hate seeing you like this. It's not healthy and I think you need to talk about this with someone, anyone.”

  
  
Stiles rushed out of the bathroom, quickly stripping out of his pajamas and pulling on whatever clothes he saw first. “I know, Dad. I know, but I swear I’m fine a-and if I really need to talk to you I will. It was nothing I swear, just dumb memories.” He avoids looking anywhere towards him again, because just one look will be enough to make him crumble.

  
  
“Stiles, just stop and listen to me for a second.” His dad pleads.

“I love you, tonight let's do healthy veggie burgers or even one of those disgusting, juicy meat burgers.” Stiles bolted out of his bedroom, jogging down the stairs and racing out the front door to get to his Jeep. He threw his backpack into the passenger seat, using a little too much force closing the door behind him. 

Fumbling to stick the key in the ignition his hand shook, unable to keep it still. “You've gotta be kidding me, stop this, just stop.” He felt a panic attack coming on and he just couldn't think straight, he was losing his mind one day at a time. Just as he found himself about to call out for his dad the unexpected happened. His hand suddenly stilled under a weight he couldn't see, the feeling of someone grasping his hand so carefully, the feeling of claws dragging against the back of his hand.

Stiles’ breathing hitched and he paused for a couple endless seconds before slowly sticking the key into the ignition. Turning it to the right he listened as the engine came to life. He felt the air return back to his lungs, eyes glued over the goosebumps on his skin where that feeling of someone holding his hand retreated just as quickly as it came. He swore he felt a warm touch, a familiar warmth with dangerous claws that tore into him almost every night in his dreams.


	2. "Does he really not see it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is un-betaed and my grammer isn't the greatest, but I hope it makes sense.

Stiles stared out the window with boredom quickly taking over once more as he waited for the bell to ring. His History teacher Mrs. Thatcher had already gotten on him once earlier in the hour, but something inside him just seemed to not care. He'd apologized for staring out the window, biting his tongue last second to stop himself from adding a sarcastic remark. Sure, he never knew how to keep his mouth shut and always had to have the last remark. The words he wanted to tell her though weren't just words, they were something that felt cruel and not like him at all.

School was something he’d actually enjoyed, he looked forward to one day getting out of Beacon Hills and going off to Berkeley for college. Ever since coming back to school however it all just had become pointless in his mind. He wasn't finding the energy to actually do his work and when forced to complete it, his attitude just grew at an insane amount. Stiles couldn't find a word to even describe the mood change. 

Unfortunately it wasn't just school, lately he'd become uninterested in a lot of things. Lacrosse was one, but that he got forced to quit during the first week getting back to school. Coach yelled at him for dropping the stupid ball and as usual mispronounced his name. It wasn't even a cruel or taunting shout, Coach had only told him to watch the ball closer.

_ “Bilinski! What the hell are you doing out there just staring off into space!? Focus or you're benched!” _

_ Stiles stood there with a blank expression, turning around and walking off towards the bleachers. Inside somewhere his conscience had fought to stop, but his legs just kept carrying him over to the Gatorade cooler.  _

_ “Hey! Stiles, what’s wrong man? You know Coach is just being Coach.” _

_ Stiles ignored Scott as he ran over and lifted up the crosse stick over his head, his best friend's concerned voice becoming inaudible along with the voices of Coach and the rest of the team. He brought the crosse down hard against the cooler, watching the lid break off and its contents splash everywhere. That should have been enough yet he couldn't stop himself. He brought the crosse down over and over without pause against the bleacher. Scott tackled him without a thought immediately after getting over the shock and Stiles had fought tooth and nail, making a scene in front of the team and those watching. _

His dad managed to convince both the principal and Coach Finstock that getting screamed at on the field had triggered something from his mental breakdown he suffered the last month when he was absent from school. In a file at the nurse's office it showed he'd had a stay in Eichen House, and his father fought for him hard enough that they both apologized but all thought it was best he quit the team. He should have been upset and instead was apathetic. 

“Mr. Stilinski, could you please tell me and the rest of the class what is so fascinating about the outside?” 

Stiles raised his head from his hand, glancing up towards her with a thin smile as he opened his mouth. “That's easy. You're not-.”

The bell rang, saving him from finishing that rude remarking and earning another detention. “Class dismissed, all except Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles groaned, burying his face in his arms and ignored half of the ooos and ahhhs from the class rushing to leave. 

“I'll wait outside, man.” Scott patted his back before leaving the classroom and Stiles resisted the urge to wipe it off. He felt sick to his stomach for that unpleasant feeling. Scott was but a good friend and over the last couple of days Stiles wanted nothing to do with him.

“Look, I'm sorry. I just got really distracted and I'm-.” He trailed off, not knowing what to even tell her. Stiles didn't even know what was wrong with him. He listened to the chair pull up along his desk and couldn't find it in him to actually look at her. “I understand if you're going to send me to the office, or give me detention, the works.”

“Stiles, I know last month they said was a real tough time for you and you went through a lot. It's the only reason I haven't failed you on everything, but I just don't understand. You've always been first and second in my class, turned in all assignments on time, but you're seriously slacking now.” She gently pressed. “I know you know how to do the work, you know the assignments without having to open a book, but you just refuse to do them.”

Stiles forced himself to sit up, rubbing a hand over his face and looking over towards her. “I'm sorry, I really am, and I'll try to make up everything if I can.”

“I don't know if you're seeing somebody already, but you should visit the guidance counselor after school. If not, a local therapist. You have a lot you need to work through.” She stood up and returned to her desk, taking out a thick folder and setting it down in front of him. “Inside are most of your assignments, return them to me by next Monday.”

“Yes ma'am, thanks so much.” Stiles put on a small smile and quickly took the folder, making a beeline for the door to get out of the classroom that felt like it was growing smaller and smaller. 

“Hey! What'd she say?” Scott moved in closer to see what she gave him. 

“Nothing man, just the work I have to do. I’ve been falling behind in class, but that’s because all the time I wasn’t here..” Stiles shook his head and headed for his locker to put it away in his backpack. 

Scott awkwardly nodded his head, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. “So, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop or anything.”

Stiles gave him a pointed look, shaking his head. “She thinks I need to see the counselor or someone, but how am I gonna go and detail how my mind got taken over because of a supernatural demon?” He asked, shutting the locker with a little more force than normal. “Oh hi, it’s just I almost killed people, did kill some of them, but technically it wasn’t me, and now I’m suffering from the aftermath of that all.”

Scott didn’t know what to tell him, he knew Deaton and Morrell were the last people Stiles wanted to go spill his mind to. “I know you can’t tell the entire truth and I’m not telling you to lie, but I don’t think it’d hurt. Just.. tell Mr. Ainstworth how you’ve been feeling lately, just to get the teachers off your back.”

“I don't want to, but if I don't go see him I think they're going to call Dad and he's got enough on his plate now. He's already lied and risked his job enough for me, he doesn't need anything else like that.”

Scott gently wrapped an arm around him, giving him a comforting squeeze. “After school Lydia and I are gonna go see Allison, do you think you might wanna come?”

“I can't, the counselor is after school and then all that schoolwork.” Stiles smiled thin, this time he had an actual excuse and didn't have to lie. Allison had barely survived that night, dying twice on the operating table until the doctors and nurses managed to stable her.

“Stiles, she's not angry with you, or is Mr. Argent. They know it wasn't y-Derek?” Scott paused.

Stiles frowned at the name, looking outside the windows of the school where the said man stood already talking to Jackson who frowned at whatever Derek said and walked off. “Back too soon.”

* * *

  
“Cora asked me to stay another week so I did, but it was time to come home after that. Arizona was nice, just not for me.” Derek shrugged, leaning back against his car. He'd come by to see how they were doing after the events of last month, to see if Stiles was better now, he claimed. 

“Not even a little tempted to stay with her?” Lydia asked curiously. “You were there for a while, anything is nicer than this town.”

Stiles stood off to the other side of Scott where they'd been joined by Lydia, Isaac, and Erica. He wasn't buying it, Derek didn't come to check on him. He only wanted to see that Stiles was no longer possessed and stronger than him, to see that he couldn’t kill-. “Huh?”

He froze up when all eyes fell to him, glancing up and shyly laughing. “Sorry, just thinking out loud.” 

“About?” Erica innocently pushed.

“About,” he trailed off, “it doesn’t matter. Question, why are we skipping out on lunch to talk to Derek.” Stiles snorted, crossing his arms and looking towards the said wolf.

“Free world, free ability to go where we want.” Isaac reminded him.

“I’m leaving school early to see Allison, this was on the way.” Lydia smiled.

Scott shook his head, “you didn't have to come out here. Just go inside, we’ll meet up for class.”

Stiles laughed, turning around and walking back for the entrance. “Glad you’re back, Derek. Hope you didn’t screw yourself over returning to this hell hole.”

“If you have something to say, say it Stiles.” Derek called out.

“What is there to say? Anytime you open your mouth it’s to berate my intelligence.” Stiles turned around to stare at him. “Enlighten me, what would I want to say to you?”

Derek remained silent, not having any words because Stiles spoke a little more than half the truth. “You're upset with me, but I don't know what for.”

Stiles clenched his teeth, he wasn't mad, he wanted to grab him by the throat and slice it open. He wanted to hurt him like he hurt- 

“It's not because of years back, is it?”

“When you killed, Peter? No. Can't be mad at the guy that saved me from my deranged other half,” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Remember, since him we forgive everyone.”

“Stiles, I only did-”

“You only thought of yourself when you did that. Don't say you did it because you gave a crap, you didn't give a crap until half a year ago at most. I'm not listening to any of your lies..” With that, Stiles turned on his heels and headed back into the school, counting to a hundred up in his head to stop himself from exploding.

* * *

“Damm Stilinski, thought Derek was going to piss his pants.” Jackson called out to him from where he sat with Danny at a lunch table outside.

Stiles turned to face them and smiled thin before continuing through the groups of students, dropping down into a table by himself. He wasn't trying to make Derek scared or feel anything, he just got so worked up and couldn't stop himself from spilling his truth. 

He shook his head and stabbed his fork down into the tray of food that they wanted to call lunch. Whatever it was, it wasn't even close to looking like lasagna. Why hadn't he just cut class again and left to do something else?

“Smells off, right? Like if it's going to come alive and jump out into your face.”

Stiles paused around the first bite of his lunch, glancing up to see who was trying to approach him and felt his vision flicker just a little. “I don't remember that movie or show, but I do remember something like that.”

“That's the worst, when you know you've seen it, that it exists, but just can't seem to nail it down to a name.”

Stiles had never seen him before in school, but then again he hadn't exactly been in school for a couple of weeks. He looked like a senior, a few years older than himself, short black hair with these vivid blue eyes that pulled him deep inside. “Yeah.”

“Did I scare you?” the stranger asked with a small smirk.

Stiles fought to regain his composure, flustering just the slightest and shaking his head. “No. Not at all, I just was lost in there thinking about that food that explodes over your face from that movie.” he admitted, awkwardly poking at his food as a silence grew over the table that followed by warm laughter. 

“Oh, it's not real, I was only messing with you.” He laughed.

The realization hit Stiles after a few seconds and while normally the littlest jabs from people had set him off, he broke out into real laughter. “You suck!”

The stranger smiled at him with amusement, holding out his hand. “I'm Ian.”

“Stiles, did you just transfer here or?” Stiles asked, reaching out to take his hand and felt a touch of color momentarily come in and out. He quickly released his hand, becoming shaken slightly with confusion.

“A month ago, I'm a senior.” Ian didn't seem to notice his sudden shock and Stiles for the moment felt relieved. He didn't know how he'd tell him hey, my soulmate died, he was a werewolf, and since this last time I got taken over by a fox I've had a lot of problems.

“Junior, somehow.” Stiles nervously laughed, wondering if saying it would actually jinx himself. “It must have been tough to move in the middle of your senior year.”

Ian made a noise of amusement, shaking his head. “I don't make friends easy, and I've been told my honesty isn't the nicest.”

“I get that, normally they tell me I should shut up.” Stiles smiled, glancing up as a couple of students walked by and looked at him with taunting expressions. “For example, them.”

”Lesser beings with big heads.” Ian sneered.

  
  


“Big heads, enormous egos.” Stiles momentarily felt reminded of Peter, that was something narcissistic and dramatic he'd boast about, maybe? 

“That's funny.” Ian smirked, taking a drink of water.

Stiles shook his head, telling himself there's no way this can be him. Peter had to have been at least fifteen years older than him, and there was no way he just came back from the dead as a teenage boy.

When the first bell rang Stiles internally felt his stomach drop, not feeling like he’d gotten to talk enough with this guy. “Lunch went by too quick.”

“Sometime after school, we should meet?” Ian suggested, pushing himself up from the table and slinging his bag over his shoulder. 

Stiles quickly jumped up with an eager nod of his head. “Yeah, totally!” He hadn't felt this excited to do anything in a while.

“See you later.” 

“See you.” Stiles watched him disappear into the crowds of students heading back inside before going to throw his trash, sliding his empty tray into the lunch cart. 

“Stiles!” he turned his head in confusion hearing Danny’s voice, furrowing his brows as Jackson approached with Danny by his side. It never made sense how Danny actually knew about all the supernatural bullshit going around, but he guessed their creator wasn't the brightest light bulb.

“Jackson, Danny.” Stiles forced out their names in the same tone used to call himself.

“Feeling okay?” Danny asked, holding his backpack over one shoulder and eyeing him weirdly.

Stiles didn't understand that look, immediately getting frustrated because he'd spoken of those nightmares with confidence in Lydia and Scott. “What? Look, they're just nightmares, relax. You're looking at me like I'm walking on my knees dude.”

Jackson mirrored Danny's expression, but in complete contrast to his normal jerk persona he didn't say a thing.

“What's with him, did he finally swallow his tongue?” Stiles asked point-blank, staring back at Jackson. “Oh. Did Derek’s return make you want to go back to London?”

“Shut it, Stilinski.” Jackson crossed his arms over his chest, looking away from him with disinterest.

“You look like you haven't been sleeping well, just asking.” Danny argued.

“You two are acting weird, and that says a lot right there.” Stiles rolled his eyes, walking between them and back towards the entrance. “I'm fine, thanks for the concern!”

Danny turned around to look at Stiles with a thin expression on his face. “Does he really not see it?”

“What? That he was talking away and laughing to somebody that wasn't even there? What gave it away?” Jackson asked sarcastically.

“We should tell, Scott.” Danny told his friend with a pointed look.

“Or we could just let him see for himself, maybe they know of a ghost that he talks with and there is something there.” Jackson shrugged.

“Well we need to tell someone.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far thanks so much for reading. I have a few ways in mind of where I'm heading for this story, but have yet to decide the ending in my head. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. "I don't miss you."

Stiles waved inattentively to Isaac while he talked with the blob out of the corner of his eye that could have been Erica or Scott. After what felt like all day it was finally the end of the school day, Friday afternoon to be more specific. That meant he didn't need to get out of bed tomorrow, he could lie in it and hopefully go a night without dreaming of the past coming back to haunt him. 

“You know if you want I can come over after visiting hours and help? I won't let you get distracted or whatever.” 

Stiles glanced up from shutting the metal door of his locker to Scott with an awkward expression, not knowing how else he could answer that for the thousandth time. It wasn't Allison, but everyone seemed to take his avoidance as a sign that he was worried she'd be angry with him.

“She asked about you yesterday, come on. It won't hurt you just to come by for a quick hello man.” Scott argued. They stood in the hallway of the school that had practically emptied already, nobody trying to stay another second it looked.

With a grimace Stiles shook his head, flipping through the list of assignments he will need to finish by next Monday for all his classes combined. “You guys go, give her my best. Say _hi_ to Allison for me and tell her I hope she's doing better.” 

“Wouldn't it be better, if you were the one to tell her this?” 

Stiles heavily sighed, tossing his head back gently as it clanged against the locker door. He got it, he'd heard that from almost everyone, Allison's father included that none of this was his fault. Nobody blamed him, nobody was holding it against him or angry with him. Well, what if he wasn't able to just accept that?

“She’s not mad at you dude, I thought we'd gotten past that. I think it would help the both of you if you-.” Scott cut off when Stiles’ voice quickly followed.

“Oh my God, Scott. I know she's not mad at me.” Stiles closed his eyes, not wanting to hear it all again. It just seemed to come out of everyone's mouth over and over again. “I never said that she is or wasn't, can't you just leave it? I haven't gone to see Allison, Scott and I'm sorry!” He couldn't stop him and walked right up into Scott's personal space looking him dead in the eyes. “It's not my fault that every time I think about her, I feel like I was the one that stabbed her with a freaking katana with the sole intent to **_kill her_ ** Scott **_._ **” He stressed. 

Scott grew quiet, glancing around them obviously worried to see if anybody had heard and that was enough to make Stiles want to throttle him. He didn't care who else heard him, he wanted for Scott to open his ears and actually listen to him. He resisted the urge to shove him, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“You'll have a great time without me there, trust me. Allison doesn't need to see my face to get better.” Stiles grabbed his backpack off the floor, walking off before Scott could give him another speech on the right thing to do. 

Stiles remembered everything the nogitsune made him do, every little detail the fox planned out and taunted him with, all while he remained helpless in his own body. He fought as hard as he could for control, but every attempt only failed worse compared to the last. Each time it seemed he only put someone else's life in danger. If it had honestly come down to needing a sacrifice, Stiles would have immediately volunteered himself.

He started to feel the guilt eat away in the back of his head for yelling at his best friend. Regardless of Scott’s thick skull, he was only trying to help him in his own way. Deep down Stiles wished it were that easy, to accept someone's words with no problem, but Stiles couldn't find it in himself to believe that. He couldn't forgive himself, and he didn't think he ever would.

* * *

Two hours later, Stiles sat at a table in the library by himself surrounded by his notes, assignments that to anybody but he would look like one giant mess. He'd started a little after four and now it looked like he was going to finish almost everything before six. The library closed soon and that was fine with him. Stiles wanted to get home, make dinner to eat with his dad, and then off to bed. There were just too many hours in the day.

He climbed out of the chair to go grab a drink to quench his thirst, digging through his pocket for the correct change. This terrible machine always took your money, except when you used coins over paper. He stopped behind two girls in front of him, taking this chance to actually look around the library. It was quiet, the only ones here that wanted to be here actually studying, the last bunch that had left were the after school detention group that ended at five.

Stiles stepped up to the vending machine as the path became clear, sliding in the five quarters and pushed in the code for his bottled water. Silently crossing his fingers, he listened as the mechanism made the God awful noise, and then the twenty ounce bottle dropped. He thanked whoever was watching out for him at that moment, grabbing the bottle and making his way back to his table. He'd barely gotten halfway when he noticed the back of someone sitting there, covered in soot and bleeding, heavily burned.

His breath momentarily stalled when he got closer, taking a better look at the man sitting there burnt to a crisp. Peter's eyes looked at him with no sign of life, and yet he felt them casing every inch of his body. “Y-You’re not here, you're dead. I watched you die.” 

“Oh Stiles, you should know Derek can never do anything right.” Peter’s voice was strained, sounding like he had dirt in his mouth.

Stiles shuddered, shaking his head. “Just, just shut up. You're not here.”

“Then why do you keep talking to me? If I'm not really here, you wouldn't be speaking to me?”

Stiles counted his fingers over and over again, each time coming back with five, and he couldn't see any sign of color. “You have to stop this and leave me alone, Peter. I can't, I can't-.”

“I'm not doing anything. This is all you dear boy.” Peter got up from the table, coming around it ever so slowly.

“Shut up!” Stiles tried to move, but his legs were frozen stiff.

“You miss me, you miss who you never got to know.”

“I don't miss-.”

“You do, and it's perfectly natural.” Peter stood in front of him with his breath making Stiles’ stomach turn, the smell, it was so strong of something rotten. 

Stiles felt the hot tears roll down his cheeks, meeting Peter's eyes pleading. “Why won't you just leave me alone?”

Peter opened his mouth, fangs sliding out of his gums and Stiles tightly shut his eyes. The smell of rotten flesh grew stronger, the sight of Peter like that too much to bear. He shook his head, struggling as Peter's grip tightened around his wrists.

“Open your eyes for me Stiles, come on.”

“No!” Stiles whimpered, not able to look at the site.

“Stiles, please!”

“Come on, Stiles. Look at me and see what you let them do to me.”

“N-No! No, it wasn't my fault. I couldn't do-!” Stiles whimpered as a sharp pain suddenly stung across his cheek, opening his eyes with a terrified gasp. Peter was long gone, in his place Danny.

He shakily took another deep breath, looking around frantically for the library, but instead found himself on the floor in the handicap bathroom. His cheeks were wet from crying, the taste of blood on his bottom lip. Danny sat across from him, holding one of his wrists and the other hand gently brushing over the stinging sensation on his cheek.

“You. You hit me.” Stiles forced the words out of his dry throat.

“I didn't know what else to do.” Danny’s shoulders visibly sagged with relief seeing him alert once again, loosening the tight grip he had around his wrist.

Stiles somehow regained the ability to actually laugh. “So, your first successful idea was to hit me in the face? I'm bleeding fuck, what did you even do, punch me?”

“It's not funny and I did not punch you, I _slapped_ you. You were biting on your bottom lip.” Danny forced a smile, reaching behind him for the bottle of water he uncapped. “Drink.”

“I can't believe you hit me.” Stiles accepted the bottled water and took a long drink, ignoring the burning on his lip. He looked over at Danny and could see him arguing with himself. “You don't know what to ask me, do you?”

Danny sighed, leaning back on his hands for a second to actually try and find his train of thought again. “I forgot a book I needed to check out, I came back to school, got in here, and there you were. You were completely out of it and I told the librarian, I had you, you were still having _episodes_.”

Stiles made a face at the thought of labeling them like that, only able to imagine the poor old lady’s face. “Did you get it?”

“Get what?” Danny frowned.

“Did you check out that book you needed?” Stiles asked, tapping his fingers lightly against the plastic.

“Oh my-, no. I didn’t get the book, I was too busy trying to get you to snap out of it.” Danny shook his head, wishing Stiles would be serious with him for a minute. “I brought you to the bathroom, tried splashing water on your face, shaking you, but nothing worked. If slapping you hadn’t worked, I was going to call Scott.”

Stiles rubbed his hands over his face, trying to remember if he’d fallen asleep at the table. He remembered getting up to get a drink, he’d gotten water. “Is this mine?”

Danny looked at him with confusion, opening his mouth to respond, but Stiles quickly beat him to it.

“No. I didn’t mean it like that, I meant if that was mine. Did you grab my water?!” Stiles started to get up, but Danny grabbed hold of his shoulders and quickly shoved him back down.

“Hey! Stiles, you need to calm down.” Danny gritted his teeth. “What does it mat-?”

“Was it my water or not?” Stiles repeated, not going to settle down.

“No, okay! It wasn’t yours, the librarian got it out of the machine for me.” Danny answered.

“I fell asleep?” Stiles stopped pushing back to get up off the floor, holding out his hands in front of him to count his fingers. “I never did, did I even do any of my work? Was I awake when you walked in?”

“When I walked in you were sitting down at the table, I didn’t even check.” Danny told him honestly, picking up the water bottle to give it to him again. “Drink some more, okay? I’m gonna go pack up your table. Please stay here?”

Stiles waved him off, throwing his head back to take another drink. He couldn’t remember if he’d actually been awake the past however many hours or not. He remembered clearly getting up to get himself a drink, buying the drink. Pausing, Stiles reached into his pockets to feel for change, finding the exact amount that should have been there, plus the dollar and change he’d used to buy himself his drink. “Fuck.” How long had he sat there dreaming, hallucinating?

Shortly after Danny walked back into the bathroom with his backpack. “I’m going to drive you home, I don’t care what you tell me.”

Stiles turned his head to look at him and reluctantly nodded, not having any energy to fight with him. He pushed himself up off the floor, dusting his pants off and started to wash his hands. “Did you talk to Ms. Garcia at least?”

“She says you sat there with your head in the papers for the entire time, then out of nowhere you were suddenly standing away from the table, murmuring and out of it.” Danny admitted. “It’s going to be six already, do you remember what time you got here?”

Stiles made a noise of affirmation, splashing his face with water to at least look like he was okay. “It must have been a little after four, cause I came straight here once I got out of class.” He grabbed a paper towel to dry his face, throwing it into the trash and took his backpack from Danny.

“Everything on the table I put in there, it looks mostly done, so that means you were awake.” Danny crossed his arms, watching him go through his backpack.

“Yeah, that’s my handwriting.” Stiles looked over the list, finding almost everything crossed out that needed to be completed. He just couldn’t figure out why he blanked while finishing mostly all of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been coming in and out of the headspace of hating my writing and telling myself nobody actually wants to read what I want to write. Then I go into the headspace of that's not important, views aren't important, hits, kudos, etc, and I tell myself what's important is being happy with what I'm writing for myself. Currently the anxiety in my skull just blew up and told me to erase all this, but I'm trying very hard not to. I still don't have a clue with where I'm heading with this fic, but I'm just gonna keep on writing and trying.


	4. “I don’t know why I can’t remember.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last set of italics are of Stiles remembering something he heard Peter tell him.

Stiles leaned his head into the palm of his hand, staring out out the window as rain pelted the ground outside. It started up as soon as they left the parking lot of the school, coming down heavy and lessening up just a little. This was the perfect weather for a long nap, and Stiles wished it was that easy as before. He glanced over to Danny who was mumbling under his breath and smiled. “Like you said, _dude, this is Beacon Hills_.”

Danny rolled his eyes in response, shaking his head and pressing down gently on the breaks as they came to a red light. “I really thought she was going to tell me I should take you to the nurse or the hospital, but no. _Take him home, make sure he gets some rest and doesn’t operate any machinery._ ” 

Stiles laughed, thinking back to the little lady watching him with concern in her green eyes. Ms. Garcia had been at the library since he remembered visiting back in elementary school and taking another visit in middle school. Never had she looked at him like he was going to explode into several bits and pieces until today. She’d asked him if he was alright and after reassuring it was just an episode, she told him she hoped he felt better. “Maybe she’ll fill the nurse in or the principal.”

Danny glanced at him with concerned, confusion. “You’re treating this with way too much normalcy. This doesn’t happen in everyday life.” 

“Yeah well, it’s starting to be my new, normal.” Stiles shrugged, reaching up to rub his hand over his head. “What do you want me to do? Pitch a fit and scream because my dead other half won’t leave me alone?”

Danny was visibly more concerned with the fact that he referred to Peter Hale as his other half and Stiles was ready to call him out on it, but Danny quickly spoke up. “I’m just saying, you can’t keep living like this is normal and adjust to it.”

“Well I don’t know how to fix this.” Stiles told him in complete honesty, wiggling deeper into the seat with his knees up to his chest and his shoes resting on the dash to accommodate his lanky frame. “I get a therapist, and what are they going to do, look at me like I’m worse off.”

Danny offered a look of sympathy, turning his eyes back to the road as the light flashed green above them. “Who do you talk to about this then? Scott, at least?” 

Stiles looked at him out of the corner of his eye, wishing Danny wasn’t so likable that he could hate his guts. “I don’t want to talk to anybody, because I don't know what to tell them.” What does he even say about reliving the same night over and over again, seeing Peter in places he isn't, and colors constantly coming in and out that he shouldn't be able to see?

“You could tell me.” Danny offered, turning onto Stiles’ street.

“Or, you could come inside and wait for Jackson.” Stiles quickly suggested. “We can act like none of this happened and pretend to be normal, I'm cooking burgers.”

“I'm serious.” Danny argued as he turned into the driveway and parked.

“So am I.” Stiles reached over to grab his keys and climbed out of the Jeep to head inside. “Come on, Danny. You still owe me that date! Are you really going to deny me that?”

Danny couldn't help but laugh, on the inside only able to imagine how Jackson was handling talking to Sheriff Stilinski.

* * *

Jackson awkwardly crossed his arms over his chest as he sat outside of the Sheriff's office, the wandering eyes of several deputies making it hard to resist opening his mouth and saying something. 

Danny was supposed to have been here with him, and it was his idea, but then he encountered Stiles at the library in the middle of who knows what and Jackson was on his own. He couldn’t see Sheriff Stilinski actually taking him seriously, no doubt he knew that he and his son didn’t exactly enjoy each other’s presence. What was he supposed to do if the Sheriff didn’t believe a word he said and kicked him out? Reaching into his pocket he pulled out his phone and gritted his teeth, it physically gave him pain to attempt to contact Derek Hale. Derek Hale stabbed him with his claws. He was trying to kill him regardless of what he said. 

“Jackson? What are you doing here?”

Jackson was brought out of his thoughts as he glanced up to see the Sheriff watching him with confusion, guessing he’d finished with whoever he was talking with. “Look, I don’t want to be here, but I need to talk with you.”

Sheriff Stilinski looked at him with wariness, and Jackson didn’t blame him, he’d almost gotten him fired. The Sheriff motioned his head for him to follow him into the office and Jackson got up from the chair, stepping inside and leaning against the desk as the door shut closed. “What do you need to talk to me about this late?”

“It’s about Stilin-, I mean Stiles.”

“What’s wrong with my son?” The Sheriff directly asked, looking ready to grab his keys and bolt. 

“It’s not serious, I mean not that kind of serious. He just, Danny and I noticed at lunch that he wasn’t acting right.” Jackson admitted, turning to look him in the eyes. “Stiles was sitting by himself, and halfway through lunch he just started talking to someone that wasn’t there.”

“What do you mean he was talking to someone that wasn’t there? He wasn’t on the phone?”

Jackson shook his head, truthfully not knowing if he had a phone, but he never saw him with it. “Danny thought the same, but we never saw him with a phone. Before you ask, no, I don’t think werewolves can see ghosts and I’m not trying to get into that. When we got up to talk to Stiles, he thought McCall or Lydia had told us about the nightmares, so I think he really believed he was talking to someone that wasn’t there.” 

The Sheriff stressfully ran a hand over his face, not appearing to have an instant thought on how to handle the thought of his son talking to someone that wasn’t there. They’d been to the hospital again for a second time for Stiles’ MRI scan. In that time when his son was possessed, the scan had shown he’d developed frontotemporal dementia, yet with the second scan there was thankfully zero trace of it anywhere even possibly developing. 

“Also, Danny said he ran into Stiles at the library.” Jackson felt the slightest pang in his chest to be the one to have to tell him all of this. “He was supposed to meet me here, because you have no reason to actually believe anything I’m telling you. Danny went to the library to check out a book and there was shouting on the second level, Stiles looked like he was sleepwalking he said. He was talking to someone that wasn’t there, crying, the librarian didn’t know what to do so Danny pulled Stiles into one of the bathrooms. He managed to wake him up, and Stiles seemed fine, just tired after it all.” 

“Where are they now?”

“They’re at your house. Danny drove him home. Last I heard, he said Stiles didn’t want to talk about it but he was going to wait there with him until I went to pick him up.” 

The Sheriff sighed, cursing underneath his breath and was desperately trying to figure out what he was dealing with. If this was something supernatural, or if it was his son experiencing an actual mental health crisis. “Thank you for letting me know, really.”

“Stiles tried to help me once even if I didn’t want it, I’m just trying to do the same.” Jackson shrugged. “I just figured, for once you should be the first to know about your son rather than the last.” 

* * *

“You’re ruining our date, Jacks. Danny was going to spend the night but now he saw your pretty face.” Stiles called out.

“Yeah, I’m the one ruining it by talking with my mouth full and acting like a dumbass.” Jackson scoffed, taking a bite of his burger. He wasn’t trying to eat Stiles’ cooking, he was just hungry. 

They sat around the square table in the Stilinski household’s kitchen, Stiles on one side, Jackson across from him, and poor Danny in the middle of it all. It was the most out of place trio to ever sit at a table. Jackson hadn’t planned on sticking around, but he guessed they could wait a little longer until the Sheriff got home. It’s what Danny wanted.

“I wouldn’t go out with either of you, no offense.” Danny finally managed to get a word in, in the middle of what felt like the fiftieth war between Stiles and Jackson that began all the way in elementary school. 

Stiles feigned a pain in his chest, clutching over his heart, “you wound me, you really do.”

“Well, what if we were the only two guys on earth?” Jackson asked.

“No. Single forever, it’d be fine.” Danny laughed, grabbing his drink and taking a sip. “You know, you two together would be pretty hot, though.”

Stiles sounded with disgust, sticking out his tongue and making gagging sounds. “God, no.” 

“Come on, Danny. Really?” Jackson asked him with equal disgust. 

“Nobody told either of you to imagine it. It was just a thought.”

Stiles waved his hand with another sound of revulsion, leaning back in his chair and taking this all in for the first time. He didn’t know what alternate timeline he entered, but here he was having dinner and having an actual conversation with Danny and Jackson of all people. He hadn’t thought about Peter for the last few hours, at least not until now. Jackson didn’t say anything when he got here about if Danny had told him about the library, but Stiles had a feeling he knew. 

“Does anybody want anymore?” Stiles asked, motioning to the empty plates he’d filled up twice for Danny and three times for Jackson. 

Danny shook his head, “no, I’m good, thanks.”

Jackson murmured in agreement, getting up and grabbing their plates to put in the sink. “It was, okay.”

Stiles laughed, putting on a shit eating grin as he watched Jackson struggle to be nice to him. “You do care.”

“Shut up.” Jackson snapped, scrubbing the dish with a hint of red on his face. “I was hungry, that was it.”

“Hungry for my-.” Stiles cut off at the sound of the front door, getting out of his chair to go see if his dad was finally home. He was greeted with the warm sight and smiled. “Hey Dad, you made it home before ten.”

His dad smiled back, removing his jacket and hanging it up behind the door. “I noticed a Porsche out front, did you steal-.”

“I did not steal Jackson Whittemore’s car. He’s here to pick up my hot date.” Stiles replied back with a genuine laugh. “Not really, uh, I’ll tell you about the library later. Danny just brought me home and Jackson was picking him up.” He reluctantly admitted. “I made a lot of food, so I made Danny eat with me while he waited for Jackson, and Danny made Jackson accept my offer of food.” 

“Scott too?” His dad asked, walking over towards him into the kitchen where he was greeted by the abnormal sight of different teenagers in his house.

“Nope. Not today.” Stiles awkwardly held his arm out. “You know Danny, Jackas-I mean Jackson.” 

Jackson waved his hand in greeting, finishing putting away the dishes they’d eaten on. 

“Sheriff.” Danny smiled. “I’m sorry we invaded your house and ate your dinner.”

“That’s fine boys, don’t worry about it. Did you eat enough?”

Stiles didn’t know what he’d expected, but they were talking a little too comfortably around each other and Stiles wondered if his dad knew about today already. Had Danny or Jackson filled him in already about the library? He wanted to be upset, but some part of him didn’t feel as enraged as he expected. 

“Yeah, definitely. It’s getting really late though so we should get going. Jackson has something with his parents tomorrow and mine are probably wondering where I’m at.” Danny climbed out of the chair, placing his glass in the sink and washing his hands. 

“So you’re really not going to stay the night with me?” Stiles asked, losing the ability to keep a straight face. 

Jackson snorted, wanting to open his mouth but didn’t think he could talk like that in front of Stiles’ dad after today. “Maybe we’ll do breakfast and freak out everyone on Monday.”

“That would be fun.” Stiles couldn’t believe he was agreeing with Jackson and walked them to the front door after they said goodbye to his dad.

“Does he know?” Stiles asked as they stepped out onto the porch, not wasting another breath. 

Danny calmly nodded, shifting his backpack to the other shoulder. “While I was with you, I made Jackson go and tell him at the station.”

“Why?” Stiles asked point blank. “Why did you have to tell him?”

“To be honest I didn’t know if you would tell him, but he deserves to know and because I got worried after seeing you like that.” Danny admitted. “If you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me. I made Jackson tell him.”

“I want to be mad, but I don’t have any energy to be angry.” Stiles looked over to Jackson who’d grown unnaturally quiet. “Why would you want to help me?”

“I don’t know, but it’s like I told your dad, you tried to help me, so this is me trying to help. Whatever.” Jackson swallowed back a frustrated sigh. 

“Maybe I'm actually not mad at either of you, I just have to figure out now what I’m going to tell him in my own words.” Stiles admitted. “I guess admitting what happened, that hard part is over.”

“Well, just keep me, us, in the loop.” Danny told him seriously before stepping off the porch with Jackson following. “Thanks for dinner Stilinski.”

“Yeah, it wasn't the worst threesome I've ever had.” Stiles laughed, watching them get in Jackson's car and leave. It was strange, having fun with the last people he'd ever wanted to have fun with. Now was the difficult part, trying to tell his dad and see what his dad thought and hope he didn't chase his dad into an early grave.

He walked back inside the house and closed the door behind him, able to hear the sound of his dad watching the nightly news from his phone in the kitchen. He was eating, that was a good sign.

“I know that you already know, but I just want to tell you that I feel fine.” Stiles spoke up as he entered the kitchen, sitting down at the table where Danny had previously sat. 

His dad turned off his phone the second he sat down at the table, and Stiles silently wished he'd kept it on. “Jackson didn't tell me everything, but he told me that you were sleepwalking in the library, having a breakdown it looked like.”

“Yeah.” Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat, reaching over for his glass of water. “I don't remember anything past getting to the library, but the librarian said I was doing my work, that I was fine. I just wish I knew why I don't remember physically finishing those assignments or even starting.”

“Have you experienced something like this before?” 

“No, at least not that I know of. I had them back when I was possessed, but I hadn't experienced one for a while. Do you think I was that tired, that I was subconsciously asleep but physically awake? It just doesn't make sense.” Stiles sighed, feeling his dad's concerned gaze on him. 

“I'm not going to force you to tell me, but what do you remember before Danny snapped you out of it?” his dad asked. “Was Peter there?”

“ _I know you miss me darling boy.”_

_“You miss someone you never got to know.”_

_“Open your eyes for me, Stiles_.”

“Yeah. He was, but I don't want to talk about it.” Stiles nibbled on his bottom lip, overwhelmed with a sinking feeling in his heart at the words immediately filling his head.

“Okay. So, I know you don't want to go to Deaton-.”

“No.” Stiles immediately was ready to protest, standing out of his seat but his dad reached out to grab his shoulder and coax him back down.

“I know you don't, but I'm going to, and I'm going to ask him if there's anything or anybody that could actually help me, help you.” His dad told him. “If he doesn't give me a straight answer, then I will find someone, somehow.” He comfortingly squeezed his shoulder and Stiles trembled as he laid his forehead down against his arms in exhaustion. 

“I'm going to help you, and I know that a ton of people want to help you too. You just can't shut yourself away from everyone son, do you understand?”

Stiles tiredly nodded, closing his eyes and in the distance of the pitch black he could see a bright blue tint slowly come in before it faded away. “Yeah, I know dad.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow I managed to get another chapter out and believe I have an idea of where this story is going. It’s unreal.


	5. "Stiles only misses Peter."

Stiles looked in boredom down to the English paper on his desk. He'd finished not too long ago, even taking the time to look over the paper for spelling errors, and yet something inside of him really wanted to just tear it to shreds. He awkwardly tampered with the corner of the paper, making just the smallest tear in the right hand corner before the bell rang out and quickly brought him out of his miniature destructive frenzy.

Grabbing his backpack off the floor from underneath his desk, he slung it over his shoulder and got up to go turn in the paper. “Have a nice weekend.” He smiled to his English teacher, before hurrying over to where Lydia was waiting for him with disapproving eyes. 

“Were you actually going to rip that up?” Lydia’s gaze burned directly into him.

Stiles sheepishly nodded, giving her a shrug of shoulders. “I really, really wanted to, into the smallest pieces possible. Except then the bell rang.”

“You were really focused, so why-. I don't get it.” Lydia admitted, at a loss for words. “What were you even trying to do?”

“It's like, I just get this impulse from out of nowhere to do stupid shit like that.” Stiles dryly laughed as he struggled to find an answer for it. 

Lydia stayed quiet for a short moment as they reached her locker, “I can only see you doing it for attention, not because it’s you, but that’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

Stiles made a face, these days that was the very least thing he wanted from anybody. He could remember times when he was a kid acting dumb, doing the weirdest things to see people's reactions, but he'd grown out of that. “No, that can’t be it, it's probably just some sort of behavioral issue from my ADHD.”

“I mean-, what does tearing up something you worked so hard on give you? Maybe that’s something you can talk over with the guidance counselor?” Lydia suggested, finishing putting away her textbook and grabbing her purse, taking a quick look over her makeup. 

Stiles didn't say much to anybody about what he talked to the counselor over. It wasn't because he didn't trust them, but more of just for personal reasons. There were things he didn't feel comfortable sharing to his friends or his dad yet. This past Tuesday he was reluctant, but with mandatory visitation from the principal and pleading from his dad he didn't have much of a choice. 

It was either Ms. Morrell, or Mr. Ashton could see him, and even though Scott had made a point how Morrell knowing of the supernatural would be more easier to share with, he chose the latter instead. Thankfully Mr. Ashton was actually a pretty chill guy, he didn't force him to talk about everything, but just to share what he felt comfortable speaking about. Stiles didn't exactly trust him entirely since most nice people ended up being psychopaths too, but he was giving him a chance. 

“I'll let you know what he thinks about it next Tuesday.” Stiles gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze, crossing the hallway to his locker to put away his books. 

Following his incident in the library two weeks ago he was positive he wouldn't have finished all his makeup work come the Monday deadline. Friday night he braced for hellish nightmares, yet instead proceeded to have the most confusing dream that seemed to last until early the next morning. He was a kid again in the dream from what he could remember of it, but slowly the memory of it began to fade.

_“Dad!?” Stiles frowned reaching down to feel around his ankle wrapped up in a bandage and ached. He glanced up the door waiting for a nurse or his dad to come barreling through, but nobody ever came. It was strangely quiet, so maybe it was the middle of the night._

_Climbing out of the hospital bed he took a few cautious steps, pulling open the door and stuck his head out. He glanced around the hospital, but it seemed like there was nobody, not even at the nurse's station. “Oh crap I'm in The Walking Dead.” He groaned, remembering when he watched the first season with Scott every Sunday last year._

_Stiles quickly began hobbling down the empty hallway, determined not to let himself get eaten alive. He noticed all the doors closed shut, and after getting enough courage he tried to open one, but it was not budging even a bit. He tried a second door, a third, and by the fifth he gave up entirely. When he reached the end of the hallway he turned around to leave, but paused noticing a door ajar. It hadn't been open before, and in horror movies this was the part where things exploded in his face._

_With hesitation Stiles crept closer to the door, peaking around the corner with his hands over his head for protection but found the room empty, save for a man in the hospital bed almost completely covered in white gauze. “Woah.”_

_The man looked young, but that was all he could tell from just a partial side of his face that remained bandaged. Stiles guessed the guy had been in a pretty bad accident, possibly a fire, but when he tried remembering any recent ones he couldn't recall one. His dad hadn't mentioned anything either. Unless, that's where he was now?_

_Stiles slowly stepped inside of the room and moved closer towards the man, gently trailing his fingers along the edge of the bed. He seemed so still, save for the barely visible movement of his chest. He wondered if the burns on his body ached, if pain medication was really enough._

_Just maybe, this guy knew why there was nobody inside of the hospital? Curiosity quickly built up inside and Stiles couldn’t help himself. He reached out to touch over the part of his face not burned, but before he could, the man’s eyes flew open._

If anything happened after that, Stiles couldn’t remember. One thing he knew for sure, it had to have been Peter in that hospital bed. He actually dreamed of meeting Peter in the hospital as a kid. It hadn’t taken him another second before he climbed out of bed and was writing down everything he could remember, not wanting to forget it. Dreams sometimes just weren’t silly thoughts, they were important. Or, he'd seen too many movies with the trope.

Stiles glanced up at a touch to his shoulder, for a split second swearing he could see Peter and then his eyes fell over to Scott. He looked behind him, but instead of Peter it was someone else. 

“So, what do you think?” Scott asked him with a grin.

Stiles awkwardly laughed, closing the door to his locker. He hadn't seen him ever come over, or had he heard a single thing he was talking about. “I think it's cool, yeah.” He hung his backpack over one arm.

“Really? This is awesome! Come on.” Scott looked as though he'd won the lottery and immediately started to head off. 

Stiles wished he'd been paying attention instead of daydreaming. He'd neglected his best friend for weeks now, he needed to suck it up and be a better friend, no matter where Scott was leading him off to.

“I have my mom's car today, so I'll drive. When we finish, I'll bring you back here to pick up the Jeep.” Scott told him.

Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat, only able to imagine where they were going. It couldn't be to see Allison, she was busy today before they released her tomorrow morning. If it was Derek's, he would sever his tongue. “Remind me, where are we going again?”

Scott laughed, “I told you we were all going over to Lydia's for a while.

Stiles raised a confused brow, not understanding what they were going over to Lydia's for, but he shook his head. “Right, sorry, I think I'm just tired. You know what, I'll take my Jeep, so you don't have to come back here.”

“Either that, or he's just gonna bail on everyone.” Isaac's voice sounded and it was enough to make Stiles want to shove him into a pile of dirt. He glanced over to the car to see Isaac already there waiting for Scott, a stupid grin on his face. Like you've bailed on everything else, that went unsaid, but Stiles was positive that's what he'd tell him if Scott wasn't near.

Stiles crossed his arms defensively, “No, I'm not. I don't want Scott to have to drive back here, and second I don't want to see your charming face. I’ll grow overcome with lust to just to rip out your-.”

“Get him!” Jackson's voice boomed from the Porsche passing by, laughter from the inside and it was the only thing that stopped him from throwing himself at Isaac.

“Shut up, Jackson!" Scott frowned at the passing car, turning to look at Stiles with an expression that asked if he was okay. “Look Isaac didn't mean it, I know you didn't-.”

“I was just playing, Jesus. Like I said, just a little tired. I'll see you two over there, really.” Stiles clapped him on the back with a grin he couldn't help but force, hurrying across the parking lot to get to his Jeep. He climbed inside, tossing his backpack in the back. Glancing up through the window he could see where Scott was scolding the other wolf, Isaac apologizing.

“I really want to go home.” Stiles thought to himself, swallowing back the heavy sigh and turned the key in the ignition.

* * *

Stiles stopped to put gas before heading to Lydia's, taking his sweet time going up to pay. He pulled his phone out and sent a quick text to Lydia, asking her if she wanted anything and letting her know he was putting gas. He browsed the candy section while waiting for a reply, and two minutes later he got one. She wanted some red licorice and told him to take his time. He ended up buying two king size Reese's Peanut Butter Cups for later tonight, and two Monster energy drinks because he could actually use them.

Stiles walked up towards the counter where a couple of people in front of him. He hadn't remembered there being this many people when he walked in, but it's not like his attention span ranged that far. 

Part of him hoped that going to Lydia's might get canceled, some giant beast would come out of the forest requiring the Beacon Hills Avengers to save the day. There might be a fight that wasn't about him, or it might be inadvertently because of him. Stiles imagined Scott and Isaac getting there, bickering about himself and his well-being. Scott would argue that he was fine, Isaac will be trying to find any sort of fault. Jackson would pull up with Danny, Scott would scold Jackson for encouraging them to fight. Jackson would insult somebody, defend himself, and insult someone again before Danny would push him to go inside. Lydia might get after all of them, tell them to stop making him feel like he was the odd one out. There would be more arguing, someone would actually attempt to defend themselves, someone would point out how he didn't look okay, and the-.

"Young man, it's your turn." 

Stiles looked over to the counter, the line in front of him now empty and offered an apologetic smile to the woman behind him. "Sorry, I space out a lot."

Quickly he walked up to the counter to pay, offering his leftover change of almost three dollars to the cashier for the woman behind him. Walking outside to the parking lot he approached the gas pump where his Jeep was waiting on empty in need, laughing at the deeply hidden innuendo. He dropped his bag of unhealthy sweets and sugar into the passenger seat, going over to the pump to put the gas.

"You again."

Stiles glanced up at the familiar voice, looking around the gas pump and found it was Ian, the guy he'd met during lunch from two weeks ago. He couldn't help the smile on his face as Ian walked over with a miniature Reese's Peanut Butter Cup that matched the one in his Jeep. "Me."

* * *

"Why are you even here then?" Derek stood in the doorway of his loft, leaning against the frame.

Sheriff John Stilinski looked into his eyes with a shake of his head, part of him wanting to say this was a mistake and leave. Stiles didn't trust the veterinarian Alan Deaton or the man's sister Morell for whatever reason. He watched him agree to spill his feelings to a total stranger over the both of them, that told him enough. Yet, Stiles also didn't trust Derek Hale. Derek and his son had a rocky relationship from what he'd seen and for half of the things Derek said or did he wanted to pull his gun on him, but Stiles often than most times got under Derek's skin. 

"I'm not here to argue or fight with you, I know Stiles wouldn't even want me here, but I need your help trying to understand what is going on with my son." John breathed, forcing himself into the loft past the werewolf.

Derek furrowed his brows in response, pulling the loft door shut and locking it. "I thought he was getting better, no more nightmares?" Before John could open his mouth on how he knew Derek quickly added, "I smelled him the day I got back, compared to last week, when he smelled fine."

John didn't even want to get into that now, as much as he felt his privacy being slowly diminished. "The last time he had a nightmare was two weeks ago, that Friday evening. It wasn't-. It wasn't at home, but in the library. Danny found him, brought him home."

Derek stayed quiet while seemingly processing it all in his head, sitting down on the couch. "That sounds like a panic attack, maybe a night terror."

"Stiles told me he remembered getting there, and after that he woke up in the bathroom with Danny who was the one to drag him in there." John hesitated sitting down across from him, debating just how much to even tell him. "I asked him, if your uncle was there."

Derek's head shot up, disbelief written over his face. "You know that's impossible."

John ignored him, "I asked him if he saw him there, and he told me yes, but wouldn't tell me anything more. Do you know after that night years back I watched him grieve for something, someone, and I didn't know who until years later. Months went by after and he was fine, then out of nowhere after getting possessed why does Peter suddenly enter the picture again?"

"If Stiles saw him there, it wasn't real. I killed him, Peter is dead Sheriff." Derek ran a hand through his hair. "It can't be-.

"How can you be sure?" John cut him off. "How do you know Peter isn't alive and terrorizing my son?" 

Derek only seemed to grow further agitated, climbing off the couch and walking over to grab his jacket off the back of the chair at the table. "I'll show you how I know." 

* * *

John wearily agreed to follow Derek in the police cruiser after a few minutes of arguing for where the werewolf was taking him. His response was nowhere you haven't been before and that only puzzled him further. Derek drove all the way out to the edge of the preserve, climbing out of his car and looking at him impatiently. 

He double checked that his gun sat in its holster, all the negative outcomes practically piling up in the back of his mind. Stiles didn't want him to go to Deaton, and even though he told him he would go to the vet he didn't, he went to Derek Hale instead. "You have him buried in the woods?" 

"What? No." Derek hissed, taking another direction entirely that left John confused. He was going towards the old Hale property, the abandoned house got down with there being nothing left to save. Whether Derek owned it or not, he didn't know. 

John watched as they finally entered the empty clearing, where the house stood there was nothing. He remembered coming out here a couple of times, before and after the fire, seeing it so empty was just unsettling. Along the fence multiple signs stuck out reading 'Private Property'. There was no rubble remaining, save for a couple of empty buckets and hardwood. 

"It still belongs to me, the burnt down remains were a safety hazard according to multiple of your officers and the city, so it got torn down." Derek unlocked the gate with a key, motioning him to follow. "So no, before you ask, we're not breaking in or trespassing." 

"There's nothing here, Derek." John frowned, looking over the empty area with confusion. 

Derek ignored him, walking over to the fence at the very back where three heavy pieces of wooden crates were stacked atop of each other. If looking through the spaces, you could see the door beneath.

"What's down there?" John asked, taking a knee to get a better look.

"It's an underground bunker, where mom would have had us all if we knew about Kate's plan before." Derek explained. "It stretches out to the old barn nearby, there's an entrance there too. Both entrances are lined up entirely with mountain ash, supernatural creatures can't go in or come out." 

"This still doesn't tell me if Peter is dead or not." John argued, standing back and beginning to take off his jacket with clear intention of going inside. 

"I buried Peter deep underground when I killed him, he lost all power, power I took and then lost." Derek flashed his eyes, reaching out to grab his arm and force him to look at him. "Have you even stopped to think that maybe this has nothing to do with him?" 

"Then what else!?" John brought his arm back with a frustrated sigh. "What else is making my son see things that aren't there and lose his mind? He isn't possessed anymore Derek, what else could it be?" 

"You don't get it, do you?" Derek frowned. "Stiles only misses Peter. It's nothing to do with him being haunted or possessed, I think he just misses him."

John rubbed his hand over his face with aggravation, not wanting to believe that. "Then what about the nightmares?" 

"Maybe it's his grief. When I lost my soulmate, when I lost Paige I got hit with nightmares, reliving the same pain over and over, the what ifs." Derek revealed with a heavy sigh. "I didn't ever hallucinate her, or see things that weren't there, but maybe it's different for him."

John stayed silent as he thought about it in that way, if maybe he was over thinking and Stiles was just being human. Losing Claudia had taken an emotional and physical toll on his life, his relationships, and he picked up the liquor bottle until he forced himself to stop for the sake of his son. 

"Look. You're welcome to go down there, but I'm telling you, you won't find anything." Derek shook his head, reaching down to move aside the wooden crates. "It's old stuff my family had, books, pictures, but Peter is gone. If there was any sign that he was alive, Stiles would be the first to know. He would know the second he opened his eyes and saw color."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took me months to write this chapter out, and during the process of writing it I actually had a less dramatic fic idea I started writing too so we'll see if that ever turns into something. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	6. "Did you ever try to find me?'

Stiles couldn't understand the pull he felt towards Ian after only meeting him once during his lunch period weeks back. It hadn't been that long of a conversion, not even a serious one, but talking with him that day had actually helped him feel better. If anything, maybe because it was nice to talk with someone who didn't want to ask how his head was or discuss supernatural problems. 

“Hey, how's it going?” Ian smiled, offering his hand out to him.

“Good, just stopped to put gas and stock up on snacks to get me through the rest of the day before dinner.” Stiles laughed and reached out to take his hand, feeling at ease when his vision didn't flicker with color like the last time. “What about you?” He sheepishly brought his hand back when he realized he hadn't exactly let go, moving to press the start button on the gas pump. 

“My older sister wants me to go with my brother-in-law and nephew for the weekend, there's a baseball game Saturday morning. I'm the designated driver.” Ian grinned with no sign of real enjoyment. 

Stiles made a face at him, leaning back against his Jeep. “What? How could you not want to go? Get out of this Godforsaken town for a while.” 

Ian shrugged, “Sports are not my thing, watching a couple of boys hit a stupid ball and run around in a circle, no fun.”

Stiles would kill to go to an actual game with his dad, one outside of Beacon Hills where the guys could actually play. He remembered going when he was a kid with both his mom and dad, but he was so young that he couldn't even remember it clearly. Sadly now, his dad was the sheriff, he could barely get away to go to a doctor's appointment, dinner, a day off.

“I'd offer my place, but my nephew doesn't really take kindly to strangers. He'll maul you with just the brows.” Ian playfully raised his own to which Stiles couldn't help himself and broke out into laughter.

“Yeah, that would surely kill me.” Stiles agreed, reaching into his Jeep and took out one of his drinks to offer him but paused at the sound of his phone buzzing in the seat. Letting out a groan he grabbed it and looked over the screen, reading the text from Scott inside his head. _“Hey. Isaac was really just kidding around. Don't go home. Please.”_

“If you stare any harder it'll crack.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, quickly sending back a text and tossing his phone back on the seat. “Part of me wishes it would, it's just my friend, he thinks I'm bailing on them.”

“Do you want to?” Ian looked at him with a playful grin, seemingly offering.

“To some of them yeah, but I have to go. If I don't go, I'll never hear the end of how I'm pulling away from them.” Stiles argued, taking the gas pump out of his gas tank and hanging it back up. “If you get back early Sunday, want to do something?”

Ian mockingly held his chest, “are you asking me out Stiles?”

Stiles pretended to barf in response, laughing. “It's not a date, just a question to see if you want to do anything.'

Ian reached out to grab his hand again, rolling his sleeve up to his elbow, and produced a pen from who knows where. “What if I want to make it into a date?”

“Not a date.” Stiles pouted, watching him draw the numbers on his skin that lightly tickled him. “This feels really cliché dude, I mean you could have just texted me your number.”

“No fun in that, too easy.” Ian pulled away once he finished, rolling his sleeve back down. “I'll see you Sunday, hopefully.” He grinned and began heading back for his car.

Stiles looked down to the phone number doodled over his arm, memorizing it immediately right there and then before he could forget. Ian was like a breath of fresh air, never tried digging into business, just seemed generally interested in him. He wondered if the guy was actually real or not, maybe this was the longest dream ever in the history of dreams, and he was going to show up in the genus book of world records. For a moment Stiles grew tempted to pinch himself, count each little finger on his hands, but the honking behind him pulled him out of his thoughts. “I’m going!” 

He climbed into his Jeep and turned his head around to grab his keys, freezing up when he realized he wasn't alone. “You're-I mean, you look a lot-. Wait. No, I am not talking to you.” Stiles quickly turned around, grabbing his keys to slide in the ignition before the man behind him could actually try to kill him. “Not talking to you, I'm not crazy.” He mumbled under his breath to himself, glancing nervously into the rearview mirror where Peter sat in the back, his entire body and face looked nothing like the last time, he wasn't burned.

“Ian, he looks like a nice guy.” Peter drawled, acting as though nothing was wrong or out of the ordinary.

Stiles opened his mouth, immediately closing it and reminding himself that Peter wasn't there, this was nothing more than a hallucination. It was only his mental state deteriorating. 

“If you talk back to me, is it really so bad? I mean he is gone already.”

“Yeah, well that doesn't make it any better. You're not real, you're just my grief manifesting itself in my life.” Peter scoffed, seemingly offended and Stiles for a moment laughed. It was something like that, that would offend Peter over everything else he could tell him.

“Oh dear boy, how you wound me.”

Stiles came to a stop at the red light and turned around to tell Peter how else he could wound him, but by then he was gone. He pushed away the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, shaking his head. “I’m not upset.”

* * *

“Great, you finally showed. Scott can stop shitting his pants.” Jackson laughed, bumping his shoulder against him before heading inside as Scott's annoyed call sounded. He took a step forward and noticed Isaac and Scott were inside the pool, Lydia, Erica, and Boyd were sitting at one of the tables, and he couldn't figure out where Danny had gone, but the smell of his cologne was strong. 

“I wasn't doing what he said, I just thought that maybe you-.” Scott tightened his lips together, not wanting to admit it, but it was clear across his face that he’d been stressing about Stiles not coming.

“I didn't go home, there was just a long line at the gas station. If I really cared about what Isaac told me, I'd never leave my house.” Stiles smiled thin, reaching out to affectionately push Scott back in the pool.

Scott laughed, seemingly satisfied while Isaac kept his distance with obvious disdain written over his face. Stiles didn't care if that made him upset, he was sorry if he offended Isaac, but oh well. He was just playing around with him like Isaac normally did.

“Okay, I brought snacks, if anybody would like a Monster they have to walk to my Jeep, it's first come, first served.” Stiles announced, proceeding to shove himself between Erica and Lydia.

“Those energy drinks are bad for you.” Lydia chastised, taking the red licorice and pushed back at him with no sign of malice. That was how Stiles ended up being pushed back and forth between two girls, a dream he'd once held before realizing he wanted a specific someone.

“There's plenty of me to go around.” Stiles innocently smiled, breaking open the candy and taking a big bite which only made him think of Ian. He wondered if maybe the guy would have actually come with him had he tried pushing a little more, but Ian seemed positive he didn't have a lot of free time. Sunday however was a maybe and Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn't hyped for their date, that wasn't a date.

“Stiles, when did you get here?”

Stiles glanced up to ask where Danny had snuck off to, but ended up in mock disbelief as a piece of his candy disappeared into someone's hands. “Thief, you could have just asked for one.”

“No fun in that.” Danny laughed. “Now, Exploding Kittens or Cards Against Humanity?”

* * *

Stiles hadn't imagined things going as smoothly as they had this afternoon, he was positive something would have imploded and there would be fighting and screaming. It felt like it had been rewritten over and over again in his head, but instead the afternoon had gone perfectly. They'd all sat together outside, talked about everything and nothing, played some card games and Stiles even watched a couple of them jump around in the water like fish before he decided it was time to go. 

“No, the last time I was in the water you tried drowning Derek’s ass, and mine.” Stiles accused, sitting safely away from the pool at the table with Lydia and Danny.

Jackson snorted, pushing himself up out of the pool and sitting down on the edge with amusement. “That’s what you say, but technically it wasn’t me, I got taken advantage of by a crazy old man.”

“Technically, it was, but I’m still not getting in the water. I’m cold.” Stiles took a drink of his water, in reality he couldn’t remember the last three digits of Ian’s number. That and they’d hound him about whose number was on his arm. “What’s wrong, can’t play well with others?” He motioned over to where Scott, Isaac, Boyd, and Erica in the pool.

Jackson grinned, not denying it and climbed out of the pool to come sit with them. He appeared tempted to shake all over them, but Lydia’s expression had him reluctantly sit still. 

“I’m actually going to be heading home anyway, papers to do, relaxing.” Stiles stretched his arms up over his head as he climbed out of his seat. “So, you’ll have to continue without me.”

“Already?” Lydia asked, a small smile replacing her pout as she started to get up with him. 

Stiles nodded his head, finishing the bottled water before squashing the empty plastic bottle. “I had fun, but now I'd like to get home and just lounge around in the quiet.”

“Maybe tomorrow we could do a movie night or something?” Danny suggested. 

“Sure. I'll call you tomorrow, see what's showing.” Stiles bid them goodbye before walking over to the edge of the pool to say his goodbyes to Scott and the three currently wrestling in the water for a volleyball.

“Hey, I'm heading out.” Stiles called, squatting down by the edge. “Just going to go home and do homework, start on dinner for dad.”

“Aw, alright. I'm gonna go see Allison in the morning, but I'll call you and see.” Scott smiled, shaking his wet hair and effectively splashing Stiles who laughed in amusement and quickly backed up. He waved to Erica, Isaac, and Boyd, heading to his Jeep parked on the curb of the street.

Stiles barely jabbed his key in to unlock the door when the familiar feeling surrounded him and looked up to see Peter waiting for him in the passenger seat. “You keep popping up like this and disappearing, trying to give me whiplash or something?” He turned his head back to see if anybody had spied, but felt relieved to see nobody as he climbed inside.

“Well like you said, I'm not real.” Peter challenged with a devilish grin. “Have fun with your friends?”

Stiles didn't utter a word, feeling another pair of eyes from the windows in Lydia's house and waited until he was positive he'd driven far enough to actually speak. “Yeah, I did. It was the most fun I've had since you bit my best friend.”

When silence returned his words, Stiles wanted to yell at himself for why he was still talking to nothing.

“I smelled you that night on him, it was all just mistaken identity.”

Stiles inhaled a shaky breath, still trying to figure out why his brain didn't understand this wasn't real, none of it. Peter wasn't real. “So what, you would have bitten me instead? That doesn't make it any better. How could you-? You couldn't have known we were soulmates then.” He took a slightly tighter grip on the steering wheel, continuing to drive home.

“I didn't.” Peter answered. “I smelled you, your peculiar scent, it's what led me back into the preserve that night. I remembered smelling it from years ago.”

Stiles frowned, ready to snark about how a teenage boy wasn't the most amazing scent in the world before it hit, him the way Peter was talking. “Remembered? Wait, hold on, but you never, we never met until that night in the nursing home!”

“We met in a hospital.”

Stiles glanced over to him sitting calmly in the passenger seat, as though this was an everyday conversation. “It's the same thing, almost the same-. No. It wasn't-.” Flashbacks to the dream from this morning plagued his mind, he would have remembered something like that.

“You were a kid and you wandered into my hospital room nine years ago. I was in and out of consciousness, struggling to heal after they left, but your warm scent was the first thing to make me want to get up.”

“I tried to get up there on the bed, to ask you where was everyone-.” Stiles parked in the driveway of his house, parking and sitting still as he attempted to process how that dream could actually be real.

“There were people, but in your dream you probably remembered it differently. You almost touched me, that's when I started to get up, but a nurse walked in and let the staff know they'd found you.” Peter smirked with amusement. “You protested, wanting to know what they were doing with a mummy an-.”

“Then my dad came, told me to stop arguing and get back so the doctor could look at my ankle.” Stiles finished as the memory played out in his head, it wasn't a dream. “If you could get up, why didn't you?”

“I wanted to, but I couldn't, not with the physical state I was in.”

The more he thought of that dream, the more the emptiness disappeared, people appeared in the hallways, the nurse's station wasn't dead, and the hallways weren't endless. Peter had really been lying there in the bed, burned and lifeless. “Did you ever try to find me? I know I was just a kid, but-."

When silence met him in return Stiles glanced to his side, finding nothing but an empty seat. He reached out to feel, for any sort of warmth but it was cold. Peter wasn't there, he'd never been there. Stiles leaned back in his seat, tightening his lips together to stop himself from crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggle a lot with writing dialogue between characters and can never honestly tell if I'm going in the right direction or not. What you read here is attempt six hundred, so I hope to some point it looks okay. I didn't think I'd ever finish writing this chapter, but somehow the night before and this morning was able to get it out. Thanks so much for reading, hopefully I finish this before the year is over.

**Author's Note:**

> Round two of trying to figure out what to do with this fic is a go. It's been sitting in my Google Docs for over a year, so we'll see if it actually finds its body and ending. If you've made it this far thanks for giving it a shot, hope you enjoyed.


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